


Out of Phase

by Pharetra



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Getting Together, Multi, Nogitsune Trauma, Post-Nogitsune, Rating May Change, Recovery, Trans Female Character, Trans Stiles Stilinski, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-23 15:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20245411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pharetra/pseuds/Pharetra
Summary: Stiles has dealt with a lot over the past few supernatural-baddie-riddled years. But now that things are quieting down, there’s something in him that will no longer be ignored.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hokay. So this is about the 5th ‘trans stiles’ story document I’ve opened, and the first one that I could get back into after waking up the next day (apparently, I only get inspired to start a new one when very over-tired).
> 
> Teen Wolf is my favourite fandom on AO3, and has a lot of amazingly good works. There’s a lot of juicy trauma and interesting characters from both canon and fanon. Here’s the catch. I’ve never seen an episode of TW through. I’m Australian, and my high school years were far from golden. So watching American TV shows about high schoolers is confusing, weird, and reminds me of bad experiences. This means that the sum total of my knowledge of Teen Wolf is second-hand via the probably 5 million plus words of AO3 fic I’ve read. I’ll definitely screw up canon details, big and small.
> 
> I am, however, a trans woman, writing from my own experiences. So basically, I’m stealing characters I’ve put together from other people’s descriptions, to the service of more fiction with trans female protagonists. Because there’s nowhere near enough of that.

“Hey Stiles, are you o-”

“HOLY SHIT FUCK Christ on a _bike_,” came Stiles’ response before Derek could get further than halfway through the door to his bedroom. “Did nobody ever teach you to _knock_, you brute? Close the door!”

Derek stepped forward and gently pushed the door closed behind him with his shoulder, the tray holding a bowl of soup and plate with two slices of bread carefully balanced in the opposite hand. He searched in vain for a space on the desk next to the door in which to place the tray, but stacks of books, papers and Stiles’ laptop well and truly covered the surface. “Really, Stiles-”

“I didn’t mean close it with _you inside_, Jesus Christ, I am never going to get over this,” came the embarrassed protest.

Derek rolled his eyes, transferring a book to one side so that there was a roughly level area to put the tray down. “I brought you some food, I know you didn’t eat lunch. I don’t know why you’re acting so mortified.” He finally looked up to where Stiles was standing, in front of his closet.

“Oh.”

Stiles made a sort of wheezing noise, which was interesting mostly because Derek didn’t even think it was possible for Stiles to run out of words, but the shade of red the boy was turning couldn’t be healthy for a human.

“You need to eat more.”

“I need to eat more?” Stiles echoed in a tone of disarmed disbelief. “That’s really all you have to say?”

Derek’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know what you expected. Your heartbeat sounded nervous so I came to check on you and bring you food. What are you so upset about?”

“I’m upset- I’m upset about the fact you walked in on me like,” Stiles gesticulated vaguely at himself. “This. And didn’t even say anything? Derek, this is surreal. I’m mortified that I’m not being mortified. You should be mocking me for-“

“Wearing women’s underwear?” Came the dry but gentle reply.

“Y- yeah. You know, because obviously I’m one of those weird freaks who get off on it, and I shouldn’t be allowed near children, and I’m just fucked in the head, and-“

“Who told you those things?” Derek demanded, suddenly much closer, making Stiles blush even more. “None of those are true. It’s perfectly natural to be turned on by different things. Humans are stupid. I’ll hurt anyone who has said those things to you. If you want. They were lying.”

Unable to process the unexpected support, Stiles snapped a deflection. “Oh yeah? What would you know?”

Derek raised a single eyebrow, causing Stiles to deflate. Sometimes, especially in weird and tense situations, he couldn’t help reacting as if it was the old, angrier Derek in front of him. But this Derek was more human. Emotionally. Not so much socially. Stiles glanced down in a sort of half-apology and knew Derek would get it.

“I knew the sound of my parents having sex since before I could even write, Stiles,” chuckled the werewolf, in the sincere tone that meant he was settling into a rare longer spiel about something he thought was important. “I knew when my siblings learned to masturbate, and had sex for the first time. Except Alex, I think I was at basketball practice. The point is you really don’t understand what being a born werewolf means. We just don’t approach these things like you, at _all_. And to be honest, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Sex education wasn’t a single cursory one-sided lecture by a reluctant parent like you all complain about. It was questions and honest answers all the way through childhood and adolescence. And if you think I could judge you for being into particular undergarments, think about it. I have wolf instincts under my human side. Close to the surface, especially on full moons. A wolf that grows and matures with me. What do you think happens at puberty with that wolf?”

Stiles was too fascinated by all the new information he was finding out to remember how to work his mouth.

“The wolf starts to reach sexual maturity too, Stiles. And wolves don’t really want the same things humans do. So werewolf puberty involves a lot of working out what is your human side’s desires, what your wolf wants, and where in the middle is a balance between somewhat civilised, and satisfying to you, and most of all, safe. With the help of your pack to talk about it.”

Gathering his jaw off the floor, Stiles’ brain seizes on a word in particular and starts running. “‘Safe’? That makes it sound like all wolves are into, like, hardcore BDSM. And I know for a fact that’s not true, I mean, Scotty, like- oh, ewwww, absolutely not going there, bad brain, bad _bad_ brain!”

Derek’s lip pulled into a small smile at Stiles’ ability to get distracted by a tangent in under ten seconds. Smirking, he said “Well, BDSM is a human-oriented framework to approach these things. But it fits a lot of things wolves feel, more or less. Obviously it’s not one-size-fits-all. But the emphasis on consent and safety through open communication is really important and my parents taught us that, even if they didn’t use that acronym.”

“Are you saying your _parents_ taught you about safewords? Are you absolutely sure you weren’t in a cult?”

“Ooh, has someone been doing some _research_ himself?” Derek teased.

“Maybe! I’m allowed to be into things!” Stiles defended, his voice raising in pitch.

“Of course you are. Like wearing women’s underwear. That’s fine, is what I’m saying. I’m not going to judge you.” Derek placated. “Even if it’s not a sexual thing at all,” he amended.

Stiles heartrate instantly doubled, and the smile which had made its way onto his face suddenly disappeared, before he quickly pasted on a poor imitation, but stayed silent.

Derek felt a little helpless. He hadn’t meant to force Stiles to implicate himself on such a personal matter, just because he couldn’t lie to Derek. The awkward silence stretched.

Derek finally cleared his throat. This is what being a good packmate was about. “Hey, um, I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I just want you to know that it’s okay. If there are other reasons you do that. If you just like it, or if you’re not a boy, or not sure yet. That’s fine. With me. And should be with anyone else, or I’ll give them a stern talking to. Just, whoever you feel like, however you want to present yourself. That’s okay. It’s good. And I’ll still- I care about you. Okay? Just let me know. I’m going to leave. Sorry for barging in.” Derek started to open the door, but paused. “And eat the soup. You need to eat more.”

Stiles was left frozen as the door gently closed again. The room suddenly felt weirdly empty, and his brain was buzzing with adrenaline and thoughts too fast to catch. He lifted his glance to the mirror. The pair of black underwear. _Panties_. With just a little lace, and made out of something so soft he didn’t know why all underwear weren’t made of it. But seeing himself in them was just so complicated. ‘Nervous’, Derek had said. If only it was that simple.

Looking at himself, he hated his body. He felt bad for it. After the Nogitsune, he’d taken to hurting himself, with his fingernails. Just to feel in control. Derek had found out, and told his dad he needed a therapist, that he knew one in the Know. Stiles remembered being so angry that Derek had taken that choice out of his hands, and tattled on him to his dad. It made him feel like a kid.

But after seeing Dr Nasir for a few months, Stiles had accepted it had been the right thing to do. Derek knew him, and knew he wasn’t going to get better on his own. The nightmares and the self-harm, they were only getting worse. And for all Derek had turned into a Real Boy trying to help Stiles, he had his own issues. Stiles had gotten better, and come to look forward to the visits from Dr Nasir. The way she listened to him complain about his stupid brain and stupid body, and helped him believe it was okay to be just barely doing okay.

But he hadn’t talked about this part with her. The way a different self-hatred had been creeping in to his mind recently, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. Hating not the scars on his skin, but the whole shape of it, like it was an outfit on the wrong mannequin. The way he’d had crushes on boys and girls, and even an ill-advised tumble with Malia once, but thinking about actually having sex with them made his stomach a bit upset. Not the them part. (He knew he definitely wanted that. He had liked using his tongue a lot.) But the him part. Where they were meant to touch back, and it made him anxious and upset and he didn’t quite know why.

And now Derek knew. Or knew something was up, because even Stiles didn’t really know what exactly it was that was up. And Derek was over at the Sheriff’s house so often these days that he wouldn’t be able to avoid it for long. His dad would probably notice the second he came down for dinner, goddamn perceptive man. He felt a little spark of giddiness at the thought that maybe it would be _okay_ to talk about it with Derek. After the things he’d said, maybe he could help make it better.

Stiles put on some loud music to distract himself while he changed back into track pants and a T-shirt, and flopped into his desk chair to continue researching South American supernatural creatures for the bestiary.

“Why does the chupacabra get such a cool name when it’s such a murdery asshole, huh?” he mumbled, already chewing on a pen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 coming very soon. Beyond that, I don’t have a clue. The muse giveth, and the muse taketh away.
> 
> Stiles’ experiences with transness very much based on my own. Make of that what you wish.
> 
> Please comment if you have thoughts about the characters or the world, or writing, or whatever. It’s still very elastic and I don’t much know where I’m going with this. Comments help :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek address what happened the other day in Stiles’ room.

A few days later, the Sheriff was working a long shift and Derek was at the Stilinski house, knowing that Stiles does better when he’s not left alone. Truth be told, he’d been there nearly as much as at his own apartment lately. It was beginning to feel like a pack that was family, not just friends or allies. He was sitting on the couch, watching Masterchef Australia (“I like the accent Stiles. And they don’t sabotage each other all the time like American shows,”) and keeping half his attention on Stiles’ heartbeat moving around upstairs. He wasn’t sure when that became normal, but somehow in the months since the Nogitsune, he had become a bit… attached to Stiles. Derek was pretty sure the Sheriff knew, but he hadn’t said anything. 

Said heartbeat was coming down the stairs now, accelerating, and Derek could scent the nervousness, so he was careful to keep his eyes on the TV and not move, letting Stiles come into his space at his own pace and say what he obviously wanted to say.

“Hey, um. So.” Stiles swallowed. “The other day? You said that it didn’t have to be sexual?” Stiles got out, voice trailing upwards in uncertainty. Derek looked over and caught Stiles licking his lips nervously, which he really shouldn’t have been so fascinated by.

“Do you know what it means then, that I want to wear them? Uh, panties? Only it’s not just them and it might be sexual too, does that mean it’s just a fetish or whatever? But when I found some porn with men in panties it seemed to be like, all about their dicks and it’s not, and oh my god I’m talking about my dick to Derek Hale, but yeah I actually uh, feel kind of gross and anxious looking at my dick but I do like the panties, and maybe I’d like to try some other things too that aren’t, well, aren’t normally boys clothes even though of course clothing shouldn’t be gendered. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I feel wrong. I just don’t want to hurt myself again, Derek,” he finished in a breathless whisper.

Derek stretched out an arm in invitation to the frightened kid in front of him. With a shaking sigh, Stiles collapsed onto the couch, beside and mostly on top of Derek, wrapping clingy hands around his neck and hiding teary eyes against his chest.

The werewolf nearly forgot the conversation at the feeling of the vulnerable teenager clinging onto him. He hadn’t realised just how much he missed close affectionate contact with his pack. And something about it being Stiles made it better, as much as it hurt to see him hurting. He took a few even breaths and gently hugged Stiles back, encouraging him to go limp in warm, heavy arms.

“I think,” murmured Derek, “that you might be experiencing gender dysphoria. And I think you probably know that, because there’s nothing you can’t research. But I understand that you might not want to believe that, because it’s not an easy thing to live with, and you’ve already gone through a lot of difficult things. I can certainly empathise with that.”

“How do you know this stuff?” Stiles mumbled, face still pressed into Derek’s shirt.

“When Laura and I were in New York, after the fire, we didn’t have much money. Insurance and will execution doesn’t happen fast when there’s an arson investigation involved, and we hadn’t taken much when we ran. So we lived in some pretty dodgy places, and met a lot of people who weren’t like us, lycanthropy aside. A lot of undocumented folks, addicts, sex workers, queer and marginalised people. It was an adjustment for two privileged white teenage orphans, that’s for sure. But they were kind to us, and taught us a lot about being good people, and surviving when the world feels impossible. There was a couple in the apartment next door. Both trans women. Nina and Julia. They were from Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. We used to chat, mixing up Spanish and English until we understood each other. Having other people who knew grief, and secrets, and injustice, it helped a lot.

“Julia made it clear to us quickly that she wasn’t going to talk about her past, ever. But Nina would talk about growing up sometimes, especially after a few glasses of cheap red. She was such a lightweight. She’d say how when she grew up, she thought she was an alien child from another planet, because nobody understood she was a girl,” Derek trailed off. “She told us a lot of sad things that happened in her life, but I don’t think that would help for you to hear. The most important thing though, was that she told us she was happy. So much happier, even living on cash from illegal sex work and under-the-table maid jobs, in a tiny apartment with mould and leaks and a creepy landlord. Because she was being herself, and she had someone to love, and someone who loved her, and friends who would help if she needed because she helped them in turn. And nobody called her _chico_, _hijo_, anymore.”

Derek paused. He could scent Stiles’ tears soaking into his shirt, and the little tremors of silent crying. When the pause stretched into silence, he continued, not wanting Stiles to feel like he had to get up or say anything if he wasn’t ready.

“You don’t have to know, though. Or have known since you were a child, like Nina. Lots of people don’t realise, or repress it until they’re much older, and still get to be happy and who they want to be. There are other genders, too, or you might change over time or hell, the phase of the moon. There was a werewolf children’s story my dad would tell me about a werewolf whose human side was a man, but whose wolf was female. And their gender changed as the moon waxed and waned, and their wolf grew closer and further from the surface. So don’t feel like you have to be one thing, or like there’s a deadline to decide.”

“Gee, no pressure on me, then. I’ve only got literally every option, no sweat. How am I meant to figure it out? Just thinking about it makes me so anxious I want to puke, dude.” Stiles sighed.

Derek reluctantly sat up straight and encouraged Stiles to lean back, so they could talk face-to-face while still being close. He wanted to be able to see if Stiles got too anxious and needed to stop.

“How about this. I could try calling you a different name, or different pronouns, and you can tell me how that makes you feel?”

Stiles nodded in accedence.

“Okay, anything in particular?” An uncertain shake. “Maybe ‘she’ and feminine words, then?” A minuscule nod.

“I have a best friend called Stiles. She is the Sheriff’s daughter. She’s the smartest one in our pack, and her supernatural research skills are legendary,” said Derek carefully, but unable to keep from smiling towards the end.

Stiles started to cry again, but was smiling broadly and blushing even as the tears rolled down.

“Should I maybe keep saying that? At least while we’re alone?” Derek ventured.

The girl beside him nodded, grinning through tears and hiccups. “I wouldn’t mind if you kept up with the compliments, either,” she laughed.

Derek grinned back, unable to look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> South American trans woman describing feeling like an ‘alien child’ is from Cecilia Gentili’s amazing interview on the podcast Criminal. Listen [here.](https://thisiscriminal.com/episode-115-cecilia-5-24-19)
> 
> Genderfluid werewolf story is borrowed from the character of Alex Hale in [The Wolf Inside by DiscontentedWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4630269)
> 
> * * *
> 
> I don’t have more written yet. I’m not even sure about the rest of the pack. I’d like to make a longer story, but then I’d have to actually _plan_ things. So not sure about that. But hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
